Story cover for  Flames Beneath the Ice  by lintyli
Flames Beneath the Ice
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    Parts 3
  • WpHistory
    Time 14m
  • WpView
    Reads 656
  • WpVote
    Votes 25
  • WpPart
    Parts 3
  • WpHistory
    Time 14m
Ongoing, First published Sep 04, 2024
Landon always hated coming to Volkov territory, and he hated Jeremy Volkov even more. The man had an infuriating WaY 0f getting under his skin, and that cold, smug look in his eyes made Landon want to break something-preferably Jeremy's face
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 Jeremy Volkov x Landon king fanfic onshot
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"I always thought that the first time I'd be on my knees I'd be praying..." I held my breath lowering myself to my knees in front of him, "Then worship," he smirked, "what do you desire?" Being loved by the king of Socrates Academy is haunting, especially when you can not return his affections. When a human renegade is thrown in your path, you'll both end up getting burned. ༒༒༒ Nadya Vladimir was born a glass half empty, she spent most of her life wondering what it felt like to be whole. She's the daughter of the most powerful man in Russia, she was always one step ahead, destine for great things. Niklaus Vlacov (if that's even his real name) was born a forest fire, he was never taught to fear anything, his intelligence and mystery defined him. Wherever he goes misfortune is said to follow. He's a target. A once in a life time opportunity sends Nadya half way across the globe to Prague. There she's thrown headfirst into a sea of privilege, class and hierarchy at the elite academy. But somethings not quite right at the academy; secret passageways, doors open past midnight, hushed lovers between sheets, her roommate's unspoken past with her politics class rival and new arch nemesis who is none other than Niklaus. But if one thing is certain, it is that Niklaus and Nadya despise each other's existence and everyone knows that if they were ever to collide it would cause a wildfire. Good thing they've both never been good at following the rules.
His Bad Boy Ego | ✓ by apricitys
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Highest rank #27 in Teen Fiction. Written by @apricitys. _ _ _ "What is this?" He asked, not even bothering to look at the canvas in front of me. Instead, his eyes were locked in mine. I swallowed my saliva, chills running down my spine. I felt my palms getting sweaty as my legs nervously started bouncing up and down. Without giving me time to answer, he took a step closer to me, eyes still locked in mine. Each time he inched closer, I used my right foot to slowly push myself and the stool back. It seemed to be the only option to get away from him; until he forced his hands below the sides of my thighs, holding the stool in place. He released a soft chuckle as he eyed me from my eyes, down to my lips. "You're beautiful," he said. From his voice, I couldn't tell if he was being serious, or messing around. It sounded sincere, however there was a smirk on his face. The smirk that he always has on his face when he's found an amusing target. Then he averted his attentions back to my eyes. His expressions softened up the moment his eyes landed back on mine. His smirk disappeared. I cleared my throat and broke the eye contact. I looked down at my palms as I rubbed the sweat against my jeans, "What do you want, Landon?" I asked, almost whispering. I felt his hand brushing against my right cheek, as he tilts my chin up to look back at him. His messy brown hair, his light blue eyes and his pink soft lips were just centimeters from mine. I felt his breath lingering on the upper tip of my lip. In a panic, I pressed my palms against his chest and push him off. He stumbled back with a surprised look on his face. "Aubrey." _ _ _ Landon Carthy is an arrogant boy, who knowns to have absolutely no care in the world. Making girls suffer feels great to him. But what happens when a new girl in town becomes one of his victims? Will she allow him to walk upon her like all the other girls do?
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The shadows whispered of a king, Landon, they called, a twisted thing. His mind a maze, his heart a stone, He played his games, utterly alone. The Bratva seethed, their fury grew, Each heir he mocked, each insult flew. Then they called on him, from New York's harsh gleam, A future pakhan, fueled by a vengeful dream. Not to destroy, but to possess, To bend the King, to his distress. With soft words and eyes of burning coal, He schemed to claim Landon, body and soul. A dance of power, yet to play, Where cunning met a twisted sway. The Bratva's heir, with plans untold, And the King, in a cage of his own cold. Would love bloom in this battle of might? Or just ashes by the end of this dark night?